


A Subtle Glow

by IshaRen



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Coffee, F/M, Forests, Loneliness, Neighbours, Reyux, chopping wood, tarp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IshaRen/pseuds/IshaRen
Summary: When she gave her new neighbour her number in case of emergency, this wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a first lines prompt, which is how I ended up writing a fic about a tarp...

< _Are you free?_ >

< _Can you come over?_ >

< _Bring a tarp._ >

The messages pinged on her phone one after the other in quick succession. A tarp?

<What’s going on??> she texted back.

< _Chopping wood. Need to cover it. >_

When she gave her new neighbour her number in case of _emergency_ , this wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. Still, out here in the woods it paid to be friendly and the afternoon had been dull so far. She wandered out to her shed and dug around until she found a dark green tarp, still covered with pine needles from the last time she camped out.

In her truck, the trip to his house on the next lot over would take 20 minutes by the time she meandered down her half-mile drive, down the road, and back up his. Walking through the forest took only 5 minutes, their houses practically in sight of each other.

Hux was out back, swinging his axe somewhat inexpertly as he chopped into a rather large log. He wasn’t wearing a shirt—it was late September, but the day was warm—and his pale skin gleamed with sweat. He was wiry, rather than muscular, and quite lean, but she enjoyed watching the flex of the muscles in his back as he swung.

A twig snapped under her foot and he turned around. His shaggy red hair was damp with sweat, and his beard needed a trim. 

“Hey,” he said. “Almost done.”

She offered out the tarp wordlessly. 

“Yeah, just a minute.” He turned back to his log, leaving her to stand with her arm extended. The forest attracted strange types, social skills weren’t usually a strong point. Well, that’s why she was here too, wasn’t it? To avoid having to talk to anyone. And if she did, to keep things brusque and impersonal, like he was.

His woodpile was a mess, now that she looked at it more closely. Gaps everywhere and the logs at the edges were ready to tumble off. He was new to this, then. For all his energy with the axe, he wasn’t very efficient. _Not my problem,_ she told herself.

“Want some help with your pile?” _Shit_. Why did she have to say that?

“Yeah. Okay.”

That was about the sum of their conversation. She restacked the logs, practically having to start all over again with the bottom layer. He helped her when he’d finished with his chopping. After a few of her sighs and pointed reworking of what he’d tried to stack, he gave up and meekly handed her one piece of wood after another until she’d set them just right.

The tarp went over top, acting as an effective blanket to both the wood and the mood, which had been approaching friendly, if silently so.

“You’ll need a lot more wood if you’re using it for heat all winter,” she offered, when the silence stretched too long.

He fingered the edge of the tarp. “Nah, I got an oil stove. The wood one is just for something to look at in the evening.”

TV was only available by satellite here and he didn’t have a dish. Internet was from satellite too, unless you used your phone. Either way it was deadly slow. She tried to imagine him reading in front of a crackling fire, and it sort of fit. Guessing what people liked to read was a game she played with herself, but he was a tough one. Non-fiction maybe. Biographies or history. 

She checked the time on her phone. It was past 7:00 pm already, it had taken longer than she thought to get his woodpile fixed up. 

“I should be heading back,” she said finally.

He squinted up at the sky. The sun was setting, though in the clearing where they stood it was still perfectly light. Under the trees would be dim, but she could use the flashlight on her phone to light the way.

“Come in for a drink? Then I’ll run you home in my truck.” He half-smiled at her uncertain expression and his eyes warmed. “I’ll put a shirt on.”

She swallowed and fought a blush. Her throat _was_ dry. And her house was awfully empty. That was a comfort most of the time, but Hux was undemanding company. A quick cup of coffee and a nose around his house, then she’d be back home.

He had a cat, a fat ginger-striped one that raced off to hide in another room at the sight of her invading its territory. As he went to change and make some coffee, she examined his living room. A newish looking sofa in gray corduroy faced the woodstove. There wasn’t much other furniture in the room—a glass coffee table and matching side table to one side of the sofa. A book lay on it. Ha! A history of Winston Churchill. Her guesses were usually right.

Everything was modern and neutral, the tables free from knickknacks or photos. Only the book and a small stuffed cat toy that lay on the hardwood floor indicated anything of Hux’s life or personality. 

He handed her the coffee and she automatically sat down on the sofa to drink it. After a second, he sat beside her. 

“Have you lived here long?” he asked.

“All my life.”

He looked down into his cup, a lock of hair falling over his brow. To her surprise, her fingers itched to push it back. It had been a long time since she felt like touching anyone and he wasn’t exactly someone who set her at ease. No, that wasn’t true. He just didn’t feel the need to fill the air with empty words. That suited her. Too many people she’d known were sullen when things were too quiet. He wasn’t like that at all. He just had nothing to say, so he didn’t talk. That was fine. A relief even.

She finished her coffee, gulping it down even though it was a bit too hot. He reached out to take the mug from her, pale slim fingers crooked to take the handle. His coffee was barely touched.

“Would you like to stay—” he asked at the same time as she said, “I better be going—”

They both laughed. His face lit up when he smiled, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. The expression settled right into his face, like it belonged there. He was someone who had laughed a lot before he came here. Maybe talked a lot, too. The forest wasn’t a place for a person like that, not on their own. She’d gone months here without seeing another soul except for old Maz at the grocery store when she ventured out for her bi-weekly shop. That was in town, ten miles away. Around here was just her house and Hux’s, the few others in the area sprinkled around a mile or more to the north.

“I have some stew I made yesterday. There’s lots leftover. I was going to boil some potatoes with it.”

She thought of her almost empty fridge and the bagel she had been planning to rescue from the dry depths of her freezer. 

“Okay.”

Over dinner they talked about winter. It’d be his first one in the woods and he’d been trying to prepare. She told him a few stories about the wildlife, how deep the snow could fall, what to do if his power went out. 

He listened closely as she talked, his eyes on her mouth. A heavy tension started to fill the space in between them. It became too much after a while, and he was in the middle of offering dessert when she stood up and pushed away the chair.

“I better be going.” This time she said it more firmly.

He nodded and stood too. 

In his truck, the tension grew again, pulling at her. The memory of the pale skin of his back as he hacked away at the log rushed back and suddenly her breathing was too noticeable in the silence. His hands tightened on the wheel.

He drove carefully, turning his head now and then to check the side of the road for any wildlife that might come darting out. A nameless dread began to build as he made his way slowly up her drive. She was afraid to be left alone, to walk into her cold dark house and leave the bubble of this warm feeling that had swelled in the cab of his truck.

He pulled to a stop and they turned to each other. 

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, almost in a whisper.

“Thanks for the tarp.”

She couldn’t make out much of his face in the dark, but she could feel he was leaning toward her.

Their lips touched gently, just for a second, before she was pulling away to fumble for the door handle.

“Rey.”

She froze. 

“I’m sorry, I—”

The bubble had popped and she felt cold. Her chest was tight. Some things weren’t for her. Soft lips, softer words whispered in her ear, slim fingers tracing her skin. Not for her.

“Thanks for the ride.” 

The heavy slam of the truck door behind her cracked the stillness of the night. His headlights were trained on her front door. The bright light dazzled her, made her feel naked and exposed.

She slipped through the door and flicked the porch light on and off a couple times to let him know she was okay. He turned his truck around slowly and she watched as the red lights at the rear disappeared into the distance. 

She turned the porch light back off and stood in the dark living room. The air inside was chilly, and it smelled of dusty pine needles and old wood. After a moment, she crossed the room to stare out the side window that looked in the direction of his house. She opened the window and listened to the trees sigh. Time ticked by as her eyes strained in the darkness. It was a cloudy night, the moon’s face hidden from her. 

Finally. Finally. There, in the distance, a subtle glow of headlights. They flared for a second as he turned his truck into the space that faced her house, then disappeared.

She let out a long breath. 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my beta [Rachel_Greatest](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_greatest/pseuds/rachel_greatest). Check out her page for more Reyux!


End file.
